Sober Thoughts
by Slytherin Kunoichi
Summary: “You have the worst taste in men,” he bluntly informed her. Set after Season 9; episode Crossfire.


**Sober Thoughts**

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"You have the worst taste in men," he bluntly informed her.

Chloe rolled her eyes in response, and placed her hand to her chest, "Kettle, meet pot—" She then flicked her wrist in his direction. "Sorry he's a little inebriated right now," she drawled sarcastically, while reaching for his choice of beverage in his hand, which looked similar to a glass tequila bottle.

"No, seriously," he squirmed out of reach, the bottle nearly slipping from his grasp.

"Seriously?" Chloe shook her head in disbelief. "You want me to take _you_ seriously, while you're sitting there intoxicated on _my_ couch, lecturing me about _my_ taste in men?"

"Y-Yeah, I've got some valid points to make," he stifled what she believed to be a hiccup.

She sighed, "And I'm sure it's going to be a very intellectual conversation… "

His shoulders fell, "What is it with the dark _and_ gloomies?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, "The what?"

"Dark and gloomies—doom and gloomies… It's like you have impaired judgment, or something." Oliver threw his arms up in the air for dramatic effect.

"I'm the impaired one?" She gave a heavy sigh, "Should we compare them to your list of conquests?"

He blatantly ignored her, "First it's timid, and self-burdened, Clark Kent, the brooding alien."

An intense wave of annoyance drifted over Chloe, as she felt a headache coming on at her friend's intoxicated moment of weakness. "We are not having this conversation," came her familiar, skeptical reporter tone.

"Then there was Davis—self explanatory really," his eyebrows drew back as if to challenge her.

"For the love of—"

"And most recently the evil-genius, and _tool_ to Luthor Corp., Stuart Campbell." Oliver snorted after his last remark.

"Are you sure you want to keep going? I'd hate to bring up _Tess_," She was starting to get defensive.

Oliver chuckled, "She was just a good time in bed—you don't do lust, Watchtower." He paused and licked his lips, "You just fall."

Chloe felt her eyebrow twitch in annoyance. "Is this really about me? Or is this more about you brooding over how Clark and Lois are together?"

Oliver took another swig from his bottle before replying, "I've made my bad decisions—we're trying to save you from your problems now."

"Drunk and still trying to save people?" She shook her head, "Oliver, I do not have any problems," she felt like nearly pulling her hair out.

"The record speaks for itself," he tossed her another cocky look while taking another swig from his bottle.

"I was attracted to you."

"… " He stared at her for a moment, the silence engulfing the two in the small living room while he studied her face for any sort of hint at her deception. When her face didn't betray her, he blinked, as if trying to believe the alcohol had impaired his hearing. "Come again?"

"I walked in the Kent barn, you and Clark were talking," she retold their first meeting and shrugged her shoulder with indifference. "I ended up stuttering after you left."

"Chloe Sullivan… Speechless." He stared off past her, trying to imagine it.

"Pretty much," she almost agreed.

He looked dumbfounded, "Wow… I do have a superpower."

"Yeah," Chloe grunted, "and it's definitely not alcohol tolerance."

Oliver continued to look at her. His eyes were narrowed as he studied her, as if she was a Rubik's cube or some sort of puzzle. Brown eyes scanned her up and down, and then stopped at her gaze. Then his eyes widened and his eyebrows drew back in surprise.

Oliver tilted his head as he smirked, "How long have you had a thing for me?"

"W-What? T-Thing for you?" Chloe choked on the lump forming in her throat. "Oliver, I don't have a thing for you."

"Don't deny it," he said with such confidence in his voice and conviction in his eyes, she wondered if he had x-ray vision that could see through her and lies she kept on the surface.

"How did I not notice it before?" His smirk faltered for a moment and she was almost positive that she saw him frown for a moment, but he sounded more disappointed in himself than her.

His next move was to sit the bottle down, and stand from the couch, shrugging out of his black leather jacket.

She figured his temperature was rising, "Oh god… Are you about to get sick?"

Oliver snorted, "Please, that hasn't happened since I was seventeen." His fingers found the end of his white t-shirt and he pulled it up over his head, revealing his bare tan chest and abs.

"What are you doing?" Chloe squealed.

"Saving you, Sidekick," he smirked at her as he dropped his designer blue jeans next.

Chloe cupped her hand to the side of her face by her eyes, to shield her vision, "Don't you usually try to keep your… _Identity_ a secret?"

He was by her now, pulling her hand away, and smiling down at her with his golden ember eyes that could start a small smoldering fire in her core.

"You're so drunk," she whispered, as if the volume of her voice might scare him away.

He nodded with a smile at his lips, "Yeah, I am." Sliding his hands between her shoulders and her jacket, he pushed it off and down her arms. "But this isn't impaired judgment. And I promise you, I will remember this in the morning."

She took in a sharp breath, "Oliver, you might _regret_ this in the morning."

Oliver shook his head, "You apparently have never been drunk before, Sidekick. If you had, you would know that drunk words, and especially in this case, drunk actions are _sober thoughts_."

She didn't have the chance to retort, instead, her cheeks flushed a darker shade as Oliver's hand glided up to cup the side of her face, and without giving her a chance to protest, he pushed his lips against hers. Soft and intimate, and then wet as he sucked on her bottom lip.

It was tequila she tasted, but something else, gin, maybe scotch, and she wasn't sure if her taste-buds were the reason she was starting to feel light-headed. She gasped in response, and pulled air from him when he invaded her mouth, leaving behind the thick taste of tequila. When he pulled back a moment later, she opened her eyes slowly.

"Now," his smirk was widening, "let's get you off this bad-boy complex." His calloused fingers trekked down her sides, sliding under the bottom of her shirt and she moaned at the contact.

Chloe wasn't going to get the opportunity to dissect and over-analyze what this meant for them, where this could go. She only had no doubt he would succeed—his fingers alone were, _too_ _good_—the rest could only be better.

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Written for Calie15.

Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor do I claim to own any other characters therefore owned by DC comics.


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